Orpheus
by Elizabeth5
Summary: After Wesley's death, he learns there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby. True love, tying up loose ends, and lots of cameos from the Buffyverse. Complete
1. Aftermath

Orpheus  
  
author: Elizabeth5  
  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
  
rating: PG  
  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.  
  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.  
  
Chapter One: Afterlife  
  
It was all rather disconcerting. Wesley's family had never been staunchly religious, but there had been those occasional visits to church where he heard tales of the afterlife. There was supposed to be a blinding white light and harps and choirs of angels. Instead, he found himself in a retro-style diner, complete with formica countertops and a jukebox in the corner.  
  
Truth be told, he wouldn't be all that surprised if he was in Hell. He had started out with good intentions, but all of his past indiscretions came flooding back to him now, reminding him of how far he had stumbled. Kidnapping Conner. Dallying with Lilah. Killing Knox. Stabbing Gunn...  
  
Failing Fred.  
  
But there had been good moments, hadn't there? He had been a hero once. Fred called him a hero before she died. She'd also called him a good man. And coming from her, that was everything. But she had been kind, perhaps blind to his faults. Or perhaps indulgent of them. He wasn't certain whether a higher power could afford to be so indulgent.  
  
At the thought of Fred, he felt the now-familiar grief surge through him. It was more painful than anything he'd ever experienced, torture session with Faith included. But he clung to the memories, because even the excruciating pain of remembering was far less terrifying than forgetting.  
  
Breaking from his dark thoughts, he looked up to see a waitress approaching his table. She was a pretty girl, with blondish hair and a rigid but cheery smile. For some reason, she looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite place her. He hadn't ordered anything, but she was carrying a plate of food nonetheless.  
  
She set the plate down in front of him, watching him expectantly. Wesley let out a resolute sigh, realizing intuitively that the type of sandwich he had received would prety much determine whether he was in Heaven or Hell. Bracing himself, he picked up the sandwich and took a bite.   
  
It was a BLT.  
  
So he was in Heaven then.  
  
Giving a sigh of relief, Wesley glanced up to see the waitress still standing over him, glaring impatiently. "Yes?" he asked.  
  
"You're supposed to tip me," the waitress informed him bluntly, "you know, money. Cash. Dinero. It's what makes this place paradise– the piles and piles of money."  
  
Wesley felt his cheeks flush. "I'm sorry, I don't have any..." But even as he spoke the words, he felt his pocket bulge. Wonderingly, he reached inside and pulled out his wallet, which was now brimming with cash. Uncertain of how much to give her, he handed her the entire lot. "There you go, um..."   
  
"Anya." the girl replied. She was suddenly eying Wesley in an entirely new light. "You gave me lots of money," she explained, "that makes you extremely attractive."  
  
Wesley cleared his throat. "Well, I...that is..."  
  
Anya smiled at him expectantly. "What's there to think about, British man? I'm attractive, I find you attractive...let's make with the wild monkey dance."  
  
"Down girl," came a voice from behind. "He's with me."  
  
The voice was instantly recognizable, of course. Cordelia. How he had missed her. He wondered how different life would have been had Cordelia remained part of the group. He had a hard time imagining that she would have allowed them to join ranks with Wolfram and Hart, unless the lawfirm had a vested interest in the world of fashion. Perhaps they would have remained at the hotel, and Wesley would still be alive. And so would Fred.  
  
As Wesley met Cordelia's gaze, she squealed and pulled him to his feet, embracing him tightly. "You don't know how good it is to see you."  
  
"The feeling's mutual," Wesley returned, and meant it. She was the closest thing to a sister he had ever known, excluding those brief and embarrassing snogging sessions. "This is all a little... overwhelming."  
  
Cordelia smiled sympathetically. "It was kind of weird at first for me, too, but you get used to it. I'm an old pro now."   
  
"Emphasis on the old," Anya spoke up from behind, still smiling at Wesley, "whereas I am young and limber."  
  
"Anya..."  
  
Sighing, Anya obediently walked away, muttering something about the lack of social life in the afterlife. Wesley watched her leave, and then turned back to smile at Cordelia. "It really is good to see you. You look wonderful."  
  
"You do, too," Cordy informed him as they took their seats. "I didn't know you had it in you to look so studly, Wes. Takes me back to the days when we used to make googly eyes at each other."  
  
Wesley smiled at the memory. "My eyes do not...google. Although you did look quite ravishing at that dance all those years ago..."  
  
"Stop it, Wes, or I may try to initiate the world's most awkward kiss again." Cordelia teased. She looked up as a waiter approached and handed her a huge dish of brownie fudge ice cream. "Thanks, Jonathan."  
  
She took a spoon and dug in, devouring a huge bite in just one gulp. Seeing the surprise on Wesley's face, she merely grinned. "Ain't it great? I can eat whatever I want and never gain weight. One of the perks of being dead."  
  
Wesley shrugged, unimpressed. "I could never seen to gain weight, no mater how hard I tried."  
  
The smile had faded from Cordelia's face. "I hate you." she said finally.  
  
Wesley chuckled, and a companionable silence fell between them as they ate their meals. As good as it was to see Cordelia, he wondered what else lied in store for him. Was this just a resting place? Or was there something more?  
  
After a moment, Wesley cleared his throat. "So is this all that Heaven is, then? A diner where you eat to your heart's content?"  
  
Cordy looked at him in surprise. "Check out limited imagination boy. Of course not. There are libraries and stores and schools just like on earth, only everything's perfect. So, you know, no leaky faucets, and there's a Tiffany's on every corner."  
  
He smiled. "And since everything is so perfect, I'm guessing there aren't any firemen or police officers."  
  
Cordy shook her head. "No, there are. But they don't really have to do anything. Mostly they're there for the girls to drool over."  
  
"Ahh."  
  
"Did I hear someone mention the word drool?"  
  
Wesley looked up to see a dark-haired man approaching the table. There was an Irish lilt to his voice and a boyishly handsome quality to his face. He slid into the booth next to Cordelia and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes, though she seemed amused. "Hello, Doyle. Am I hallucinating, or didn't we discuss that you were gonna give me some alone time with Wesley?"  
  
Doyle nodded good-naturedly. "Well, yeah, we did. But I couldn't wait to meet the guy who replaced me as Angel's right-hand man." He looked at Cordelia pointedly. "And I wanted to make sure that I didn't get replaced elsewhere."  
  
She snorted. "Oh, please. Wesley isn't remotely attractive to me. He's completely sexless, like a fire hydrant or Weird Al Yankovich."  
  
Wesley blinked. "Thank you, Cordelia. You do have a way with self-esteem."  
  
Doyle, on the other hand, seemed rather pleased. He clapped Wesley on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad, mate. Fire hydrants are often quite erotic." He sized Wesley over. "Besides, I've been keeping track of you, and you aren't exactly the prissy nancy boy you were when you started out. You've got moxy and stubble now...and few women can resist that combination."  
  
"Hence the unfounded paranoia and jealousy," Cordelia finished for him.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Wesley frowned at this. "You said you were watching me? But how?"  
  
Doyle leaned back in his seat. "Each person gets their own huge tv here," he explained, "we're talking the Moby Dick of televisions. Only instead of the crap they're promoting on the WB, we get to watch the world. Past, present, future. Whoever and whenever we want."  
  
Wesley was silent, pondering this. So they had been watching? They'd seen everything? His tryst with Lilah, the murder of the man he had believed was his father, his last moments with Fred...  
  
So absorbed was he in this that he scarcely even noticed the withering glance that Cordelia shot in Doyle's direction. Doyle cleared his throat. "But it's sort of overrated, truth be told," he amended lamely.  
  
"Yeah," Cordelia said, a bit too brightly, "I mean, who wants to watch TV all the time? It's paradise here, Wes. There are tons of things to do. They've got a kick-butt library, karaoke, bowling..." Seeing that she had lost Wesley's attention, she half-heartedly added, "Water polo..."  
  
It was sweet of her, really, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable question. Cordelia surely understood that his thoughts were never far from Fred. In life, as well as death, she haunted him.   
  
Wesley focused his attention on the table-top, unable to meet their gazes. "Just tell me one thing," he said quietly. "Was the doctor telling the truth? Was Fred's soul really destroyed when Illyria took possession of her body?"  
  
A beat, and then, "She's gone, Wes. I'm sorry."  
  
"I see." Wesley rose to his feet, smiling awkwardly. "I'd like to be alone now, if you don't mind."  
  
"Of course." Cordelia said softly.  
  
Wesley turned and left the diner. As soon as he was gone, Doyle turned to Cordy. "Why didn't you tell him the truth? He deserves to know."  
  
Cordelia sighed, pushing away her sundae. "Because I don't want to lose him, too..."  
  
Scarcely had Wesley stepped out of the diner when he found the street transformed into a dark, empty apartment, presumably his own. "Well," he said aloud, "that's convenient..."  
  
He stepped further inside, really examining the place. It was Spartan in decor, with only the most basic furniture, save be the giant television of which Doyle had spoken. A comfy recliner was positioned in front of the tv for his viewing pleasure.   
  
Wesley hesitated only momentarily before walking closer to the set. "Show me Fred." he said.  
  
Instantly, her face filled the screen, beautiful, shining, alive. Ignoring the chair, Wesley kneeled down directly in front of the screen, absorbing every detail of her almost reverently. He remembered this moment; it was the night they'd gone to the ballet. She was wearing the burgandy dress with her hair pulled back, and she was glowing. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.  
  
The memory was playing out; Fred was marveling at the sight of Gunn in a tux. Wesley saw himself come up and wrap a shawl around her shoulders. He saw Fred again, saw the smile that she had offered him.  
  
His hand trailed up to the screen, touching the plastic sheath that separated him from Fred. For a moment, he had half-expected to actually touch her face.  
  
"I miss you," he murmured aloud.  
  
Oblivious to him, the Fred onscreen walked to the door of the Hyperion and out into the night.  
  
She had turned the heater up as far as it would go, but it was still very cold. Overwhelmingly so. Her hands were so numb that it was difficult to grip the steering will, but through sheer will she kept the car mostly steady. She had progressed so far down the road that there were no longer street lamps, only inky darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. The headlights provided the only light in the night, and they were beginning to flicker.  
  
Fred took in a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. "You'll be fine," she assured herself aloud, "you'll be warm again. You just took a wrong turn somewhere, but soon you'll be back on the main road."  
  
But despite the bravery of the words, she heard the quiver in her own voice and felt a hollow, aching fear begin somewhere in her chest. She was alone, all alone. And it was so very dark.  
  
She had promised herself that she wouldn't think about him, wouldn't call his face to memory, because the waves of emotion connected to him were so strong that they nearly overwhelmed her, forced her off the road. But pushing logic aside, she clung to him, because he was the only thing that could bring warmth in the ever-increasing cold.  
  
"Wesley," she murmured, "where are you?"

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	2. Truth Be Told

**Orpheus**  
  
author: Elizabeth5  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
rating: PG  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.

chapter two: Truth be Told  
  
With an impatient sigh, Cordelia reached up and knocked on Wesley's door. "Wesley, I know you're in there. Answer the door."  
  
Behind her, Doyle cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "Listen, Cordy, maybe we should let him be. He just made it to Heaven and realized the love of his life isn't here, after all. It's gonna take some time for him to adjust."  
  
"Adjust schmust," Cordelia retorted. "I know what he's up to in there, Doyle. He's sprawled out in front of that stupid tv watching all of his memories of Fred, wallowing away in misery. As a responsible friend, I can't just let him suffer like this."  
  
"But what if he wants to suffer?" Doyle inquired quietly. "Isn't that his own choice?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Hello. Heaven. Not really conductive to pain and suffering."  
  
Doyle turned away from her, the muscles of his shoulders and back visibly taught. Cordelia frowned, taken aback by this, then tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. "Doyle...?"  
  
"You don't know what it's like." Doyle said, his back still turned toward her. "This place is all lollipops and sunshine, right? And it's great, don't get me wrong. But that doesn't stop you from missing people, especially those you love." He finally looked back at her, meeting her gaze meaningfully.  
  
Cordelia's face softened visibly. "Doyle...I'm sorry."  
  
He gave a short, almost bitter laugh. "I know you are, luv. And that's the thing. You're sorry, but you don't really get it. I'm up here, and it's paradise, but I'm stuck in the same place. I'm never gonna grow, never gonna change. But you went on living. You changed. You fell in love with someone else." She looked away, but he took her chin and guided her gaze back to him. "Yeah, I know about the Angel thing. And I understand. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. 'Cuz sometimes, you just have to suffer."  
  
She sighed. "I know, Doyle. My life? Big on the suffering. But we need to do something to help Wesley, because he's never gonna stop suffering on his own. He's never gonna stop missing Fred."  
  
"You could fix that."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't need to explain myself again. Wesley is my friend, not yours, so just butt out."   
  
With that said, she turned and fished a hairpin from her purse and used it to jimmy open the lock. Doyle frowned at her. "I can't believe you're breaking and entering in Heaven..."  
  
In a matter of moments, the door was open. Cordelia moved into the room, scanning until her gaze landed upon Wesley. He was in front of the television as she had predicted, his eyes transfixed on the screen. He scarcely seemed to notice Cordelia and Doyle as they entered the room.  
  
Cordy exchanged a brief glance with Doyle before stepping toward Wesley. "Wes...WES!"  
  
He looked up and blinked at her, rubbing his eyes. "Oh...Cordelia...hello." With that said, he immediately returned his gaze to the television.  
  
Cordelia glanced at the screen. Fred and Wesley were having lunch together, smiling at each other across the table, flirting in their sweet, tentative way. Wesley was smiling far more often than British propriety would call for, and Fred kept self-consciously tugging at her shirt sleeves. There was a light game of footsies going on underneath the table. It was such a sweet moment, and sad. She felt an inexplicable lump forming in her throat.  
  
Forcing it back, Cordelia crouched down and took Wesley by the shoulders, forcing him to look away. "Wes." He met her gaze, his eyes oddly hollow. Cordy dared a brief glance at Doyle before continuing. "Wesley, you can't do this to yourself. You're in Heaven now. You should be happy. Don't you want to be happy?"  
  
When Wesley spoke, his voice was quiet, defeated. "What you don't seem to understand, Cordelia, is that Heaven holds no appeal for me. Not now. Without Fred, any place is Hell. Even paradise."  
  
Cordelia sighed. "Wesley, I know you loved her..."  
  
"You know nothing."  
  
She was becoming irritated now. "Would you stop being Senor Mopey Pants for just a minute and listen to me? I know what it feels like to be separated from someone you love. I loved Angel– love him still– but we never got a chance to explore that love. And now I'm here, and he's there, and it hurts. But I have to keep existing, keep finding some happiness, because he would want me to. I know that Fred would want the same thing."  
  
Wesley laughed at this. "But we don't really know what Fred would want, do we? Because her soul is burned up. Gone. You're parted from Angel for now, and I'm sorry for your pain. But you'll be with him again. He's still existing, just somewhere else. Fred is gone from me forever. Her soul was destroyed, and that's it. I'll never see her again, never hear her voice, never even have the satisfaction of knowing that she found at least some happiness. So forgive me for wanting to wallow in misery without her. But I'm allowed to be selfish, because there's no reason left to do anything else. For all intensive purposes, my soul died the day that hers did."  
  
As if he had made the request, the tv screen whirred to life again. Fred was in Wesley's arms, pale and obviously fading. Her slender frame was convulsing with pain, and she seemed barely lucid.  
  
"Would you have loved me?" she asked weakly.  
  
"I have loved you since the moment I saw you." was Wesley's sincere reply. He shook his head. "No, I think...it was before that, somehow."  
  
Fred was trembling visibly now as the last traces of life left her body. "I'm so scared...I'm so scared...Wesley, why can't I stay?"  
  
And then she was gone.  
  
Cordelia stared at the screen in open shock, tears stinging her eyes. No wonder Wesley was broken. No wonder he was lost. But it was better this way, she knew. She had loved Fred just as much as any of them. But she loved Wesley, too...she was doing this for him.  
  
From behind them, Doyle let out a short burst of air. "I can't stand by and watch this any longer."  
  
Cordelia whipped around to face him. "Doyle!"  
  
Doyle ignored her pointedly, stopping in front of Wesley. "There's still a way you can save her. There's still a way you can save Fred."  
  
And suddenly, there was life in Wesley's eyes again. He rose unsteadily to his knees, his face clearly stunned. "What?"  
  
"She isn't gone, not yet." Doyle informed him. "But you have to move quickly, and it won't be easy."  
  
Wesley's face betrayed the inner conflict occurring within him. It was obvious that he wanted to believe but was afraid to have his hopes shattered once again. "But they said her soul was destroyed, that it was gone."  
  
"Not gone," Doyle corrected. "Just lost. But we can find it."

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After what seemed like an eternity of driving, Fred finally found some light. The old road had merged with a new one, and there were blue street lamps lighting the way, breaking through the overwhelming darkness. But it was still very, very cold.  
  
For a moment, she merely drove in silence. There were various people lining the sidewalks, but they were frozen, unmoving. Only their occasional blinks let her know that they were even alive. She was suddenly overwhelmingly frightened in this place, though nothing particularly menacing had occurred. It was like a living, breathing nightmare. She wanted nothing more but to wake up in Wesley's arms and realize that she was safe. She had always been safe in his arms.  
  
And then, inexplicably, the car was dead. She tried restarting the engine, forcing back the panic that surged through her, but to no avail.   
  
Suddenly, the catatonic people lining the streets came to life and surged toward her. Frantically, Fred locked the doors, but they were not to be stopped so easily. Their fists crashed through the windows, seemingly oblivious to any pain, and dozens of hands were dragging her out into the cold blue light.  
  
"Wesley!" she cried, though she knew it was helpless.  
  
And then they were surrounding her, smothering even her screams.


	3. Familiar Faces

**Orpheus  
**  
author: Elizabeth5  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
rating: PG  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.

chapter three: Familiar Faces  
  
Despite his best efforts, Wesley's reservations were beginning to slip away, and the pure, naked hope in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "Not gone?" he repeated. "Fred isn't gone? Only lost?"  
  
"Only lost," Doyle confirmed.   
  
Wesley shook his head, rubbing at his face. "But...how? They told me that Illyria's possession of her body had burned up her soul. I looked for her...I tried everything...but she was gone. Gone."  
  
Doyle shrugged at this. "Well, Wolfram and Hart may have been good at lies and deceit, but they were never much for translating. Their interpretations of the text have always been too limited. It's an imagination thing. Anyway, the prophecies about Illyria's return to earth stated that the soul of the shell would be lost. They took that to mean destroyed. But here in the afterlife, we have a bit of a different perspective.  
  
"The lost souls refer to those who haven't quite made it to Heaven and haven't quite made it to Hell. It would be an injustice to place them in either place, and so they're stuck in the middle. It's not paradise, but it's not fire and brimstone, either. It's just sort of...there."  
  
Wesley's gaze was eager. "And Fred is in this place?"  
  
Doyle nodded. "Fred's soul would have easily been sent to Heaven on her own merits. She was a good kid, that one. Sorry I never got to meet her. But because of the nature of Illyria's possession, Fred's soul was forced from the body and beyond the planes of Heaven or Hell. Now she's just stuck on the outskirts."  
  
"But you said I could save her," Wesley reminded him, "that I could bring her back."  
  
"And you can." Doyle confirmed.  
  
Wesley looked as though he wanted to speak further, but suddenly his body was shuddering, and he buried his face with his hands. "I'm sorry," he managed finally. "I had given up all hope, and now..."  
  
Tentatively, Cordelia stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Instantly, Wesley pulled away from her, his eyes burning with intensity. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I was doing what was best for you," Cordelia insisted quietly.  
  
"Best for me?" Wesley echoed, and laughed bitterly. "To live without her? To consign her to nothingness for an eternity? How could you have ever thought that was best?"  
  
"Because!" Cordy snapped. "Because Doyle here hasn't given you the whole story." She glared at him accusingly, then turned her gaze back to Wesley. "Finding Fred isn't going to be some skip through the park. The Guardians of that place are pretty darn possessive, and they won't let her go without a fight. There will be tests– physical, mental, emotional. And here's the real kicker: if you don't pass, your soul will be destroyed. Lost to any of us, forever."  
  
Wesley was silent at this, and Cordelia's face softened. "Wes, please. You have to believe me. When I found out there was still a chance to save her, I researched every book the library has ever had on the subject. I love Fred, too. But the risks are just too high. This isn't temporal death we're talking about– it's eternal. If you fail, every part of you will be gone."  
  
Wesley was quiet still, staring down at his feet. And then he met her gaze, his blue eyes blazing determinedly. "So be it." he said, then started toward the door. "I believe we have some research to do..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The hands were swarming in on top of her, and Fred felt their cold, clammy touch draining the last of the warmth from her body. And then suddenly, abruptly, they were gone. Fred looked up in wonder to see a thick-set, muscular man standing over her. She squinted at him, taking a moment to remember why she recognized that face.  
  
"Lindsay?"  
  
"Glad you remember," he said in that uniquely husky voice. He reached down and helped her to her feet. "Now, what is a dame like you doing in a place like this?"  
  
Fred took a moment to regain her balance, then shrugged. "I'm...um, not really sure, to tell you the truth. One minute I was dying and the next I was driving down this road. At first it was all trees and birds, and then it got darker and darker...and I never thought I'd say it, but I sure am glad to see you."   
  
He laughed at this. "Um...thanks. I think."  
  
Trying not to think too much about the absurdity of the situation, Fred glanced around. "So where are we? Why are we here? And who were those creepy zombie people?"  
  
Lindsay shrugged. "No idea, not really sure, and...well, creepy zombie people."  
  
"Oh."  
  
There was a scurrying noise somewhere down the street, and Lindsay tensed, taking Fred by the arm. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat about this, but we should really get going. The creepy zombie people don't take long to regroup."  
  
He led her over to his vehicle, parked and still running. His was a truck rather than a station wagon, and Fred frowned at the sign attached on the back. "Cops suck?" she read aloud.  
  
"I was in a mood." Lindsay explained with a shrug. He helped her into the truck then glanced around uneasily before climbing in the driver's side.  
  
In a matter of moments, they had reached a run-down old building whose windows and doors were heavily blocked. Lindsay pulled into what looked like a make-shift garage. After climbing out of the car, he pulled down a heavy metal covering and took the next several moments locking, chaining, and bolting down the door.  
  
Fred watched him uncertainly. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not being over-paranoid?"  
  
"First rule to learn," Lindsay explained, "people steal whatever they can get their hands on around here. Including the shirt off your back."  
  
She nodded in understanding, noticing for the first time that Lindsay's shirt was a size or two too small for him. "And the second rule?"  
  
"The light is our savior," Lindsay said. "These people have gone for so long without it that they can't bear to be around it. And that's why we'll be safe in here."  
  
He pushed open the door into an adjoining room, where an old headlight was hanging from the ceiling, emitting meager but warm yellow light. Fred wanted to rush toward it, but pride kept her from doing so. Lindsay was, after all, her old enemy, and even though he had helped her, she couldn't afford to show him any weakness...  
  
A sudden thought struck her, and Fred turned, frowning at him. "I don't remember you dying." she said.  
  
Lindsay smiled somewhat bitterly. "It was after you'd already gone and Queen Smurf had taken your place. I helped out your little team, but I guess Angel decided he couldn't really trust me, after all." To demonstate his point, he pulled open his shirt, revealing two bullet wounds.  
  
Fred's eyes widened with surprise. "Angel killed you?"  
  
Lindsay hesitated, but only for a moment. "Yeah." he said. "Angel killed me."  
  
There was a moment of silence as Fred pondered this. She knew that Angel must have had a good reason, but still... She shook her head. "So if my friends were responsible for your death, then why did you save me from those zombie people?"  
  
He met her gaze evenly. "Because I have an inkling that if you had still been around, you would have been the one person to object to Angel killing me off. Not because you particularly liked me, but because...you have a heart."  
  
She smiled at this, taken aback but flattered. But sensing that Lindsay would be embarrassed by continuing this discussion, she glanced around the room. "This is quite a place you have. Don't suppose you have any food?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Fred rubbed at her stomach, surprised at how much it ached. "I didn't think it was possible to be hungry after you died."  
  
Lindsay laughed. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you never stop being hungry in this place. Part of the punishment, I guess."  
  
She frowned. "Is this...is this Hell?"  
  
"I don't know," Lindsay returned, shrugging. "Maybe. But I doubt it. Feels more like middle ground, but I could be wrong. I haven't had too much time to figure it out."  
  
Fred began to nod at this, and then realized that something in his words didn't quite add up. "But if you died after me...how is it that you're here before me? And how did you get this whole place set up so quickly?"  
  
Lindsay grinned at her. "They told me you were smart. I was waiting for you to figure it out." He cleared his throat, leaning up against the wall. "The way I figure it, the Powers that Be had a hard time with you. 'Cuz you were worthy to go to Heaven, but Illyria's return made that impossible. So you had to come here." He shrugged. "Me? I've never really been quite good or quite evil, so this was the only logical place for me to end up. So I got here quicker. And as for how I set this place up so quickly, well...that's easy. An old friend already had everything ready for me."  
  
Fred followed his gaze to the doorway behind her. Standing there was a tall woman, slender and beautiful, an old memory. Only this time around, Fred didn't have to pause at all before recognition came.  
  
Lilah.


	4. Of Chocolate and Bunnies

**Orpheus**  
author: Elizabeth5  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
rating: PG  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.  
  
chapter four: Of Chocolate and Bunnies  
  
"Found something."  
  
Cordelia rose to her feet and crossed over to where Wesley sat, leaning over his shoulder. He pointed to a passage in the text. "It says here that in order to travel between planes, we have to offer the Powers That Be a gift of immeasurable worth."  
  
"Immeasurable worth?" Cordelia repeated, frowning. "Like...a gift certificate to Nordstroms, or something?"   
  
Wesley smiled at this. "Something like that."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Cordelia pulled back and then seated herself next to Wesley, meeting his gaze earnestly. "Wes. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I was doing what I thought was best."  
  
"I know." Wesley returned, and meant it. "And I probably would have done the same in your position. But next time, trust me to make my own decisions, and I promise to do the same for you. Deal?"  
  
"Deal."  
  
The door to their small room opened and Doyle walked in, bearing a small rectangular box. "Donuts, anyone?"  
  
Cordelia squealed at this, rushing to him. "Did you get chocolate?"  
  
Doyle grinned in return. "But of course, milady." He nodded at Wesley. "And jelly-filled for the gentleman."  
  
Wesley shook his head, still intently pouring over the books. "Not hungry."   
  
"Come on, Wesley," Cordelia cajoled, "you're gonna need your strength."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "And eating a highly-processed, sugar filled pastry will give me that?"  
  
"Uh, _yeah_."  
  
Wesley obligingly took a donut, though he set it down on the table, forgetting it only a second later. Cordelia pulled Doyle aside, lowering her voice. "Any news on how the battle's going?"  
  
"Our guys are still kicking, but barely," Doyle informed her. "They're outnumbered hundreds to one." At this, he inexplicably smiled.  
  
Cordelia frowned at him. "Why on Earth are you smiling?" A suspicion crossed her mind, and she glared at him. "Doyle...did you cheat and look into the future?"  
  
Doyle looked away. "No, of course not. That would be wrong, and evil, and..."  
  
"Doyle!" Cordelia reprimanded. She paused, but only for a moment, and inquired, "What happens?"  
  
He grinned at her. "I thought it was cheating to look into the future."  
  
Cordelia scowled. "Oh, who cares? I need to know what happens!"  
  
Doyle glanced back at Wesley, making certain he wouldn't overhear. "Well, everyone's favorite slayer shows up with her slayerettes, along with a couple of old friends. That electric Gwen chick...very nice red leather thing she has going on, by the way...that coven of witches that took in Willow after she went all Manson, and they even used magic to control Oz's and Nina's werewolf tendencies so that they could fight the baddies but not hurt their friends. It's a pretty impressive circus down there."  
  
"And?" Cordelia prodded. "Who wins?"  
  
"Well, the white hats, of course." Doyle returned. "Although we will have a few old friends joining us shortly enough..."  
  
There was a knock at the door. Frowning, Cordelia crossed to answer it. To her surprise, Anya was there, a determined smile on her face. "I came to help," she said. She motioned to Doyle. "The handsome Irish man told me what was happening, and I want to help. I already got Larry to take over my shift."  
  
Cordy frowned at her. "Uh, that's very nice, Anya, but..."  
  
"I'm very good at research." Anya asserted. "And, besides, Giles Jr. here is the best tipper I've had in...well, ever. I want to help...unless it involves bunnies." Her gaze suddenly become frightened. "It doesn't involve bunnies, does it?"  
  
Just as Cordelia opened her mouth to inform Anya that her assistance wouldn't be needed, Wesley spoke. "No bunnies. Thank you for the help, Anya."  
  
Pleased with herself, Anya took a book from the stack and opened it, seating herself across from Wesley. They smiled at him, and he returned his focus to the research. Anya continued to watch him. "Doyle told me about Fred," she said finally. "I think it's very romantic– you, risking your very existence to save her."   
  
Wesley looked embarrassed at this. "Well...any man in love would do the same."  
  
Anya shook her head. "No, they wouldn't. I used to be a vengeance demon, punishing the faults of men. Particularly those who claimed to be in love. Not just any man would do this. She's a very lucky girl."  
  
Wesley smiled in return. "Let's hope." he said.  
  
Cordelia and Doyle rejoined the group. "Well," said Cordy, "what about this gift thing?" She looked at Doyle. "Any ideas?"  
  
"A gift of immeasurable worth," Doyle repeated, frowning as he contemplated this. "Maybe...we could build them a really impressive temple, or something."  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "My Nordstroms idea was better than that."  
  
From the opposite side of the table, Anya cleared her throat. "I have an idea."  
  
Wesley stroked his face thoughtfully. "Or perhaps a burnt sacrifice? No, it's a bit too cliche, isn't it..."  
  
"Everyone," Anya tried again, "turn your focus to me. I have an idea."  
  
"Chocolate?" Cordelia offered. "Everyone likes chocolate..."  
  
"HEY!"   
  
They glanced up, blinking in surprise. Triumphant at having caught their attention, Anya puffed out her chest. "I have an idea. What about a song? Music is traditionally considered one of the purest and truest forms of storytelling and communication."  
  
Wesley's face had paled visibly. "You want me to sing?"  
  
Cordelia snorted. "I've heard you sing, Wes, and that's not a gift of immeasurable worth. It's a gift of unwanted worth."  
  
"It wouldn't have to be you," Anya insisted. "You could use someone else. So long as it's pleasing to the Powers That Be, they'll allow a substitute– and I know just the girl."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Lilah?" Fred inquired, not bothering to mask her surprise. "But...why aren't you in Hell? You're like the poster child for evil."  
  
Lilah merely laughed at this. "Surprised me, too. Apparently some higher power has a pretty funny sense of humor."  
  
Lindsay glanced back and forth between them, frowning. "You two know each other?"  
  
"Oh, Fred and I go way back." Lilah said coolly. "You could almost say...we were like best friends. I mean, we shared everything."  
  
At the reference to Wesley, Fred stiffened. She had never quite resigned herself to the fact that Wesley had been with...Lilah. She understood that he'd been lonely, but it unnerved her to no end that Lilah had ever shared any part of Wesley's heart.   
  
Beside her, Lindsay raised an eyebrow. "You mean like outfits or something?"  
  
"Something like that," Fred returned, "only they always looked better on me."  
  
Lilah held her gaze for a moment, then laughed. "Well, Fred. It's good to see you've gained some gumption. Wish I could say you'd gained a little weight– curves were never really your strong point– but we take what we can get."   
  
Lindsay laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "Whoa, if I'd known I'd signed up for a cat-fight..." He paused, considering this. "Well, I probably would have sold tickets." He glanced between them again. "So what's the deal?"  
  
"Wesley," Lilah informed him simply. "He and I were playmates and Fred was jealous."  
  
Fred merely glared at her. "And how many times when you were 'playing' together was Wesley thinking of me, huh Lilah?"  
  
The smile had faded from Lilah's face. Lindsay, in the meantime, was staring at them incredulously. "Wesley? As in...Wesley?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Man, never knew he had it in him..."  
  
Lilah smiled coyly. "You might be surprised."  
  
Fred looked away. _Wesley told you that he loved you_, she reminded herself, _that he's always loved you. Lilah was just a passing thing...  
_  
Sensing that the fireworks had died down for the moment, Lindsay clapped his hands together. "Well, I'm gonna go see what parts I can salvage from Fred's car before the others get to it. You two behave yourselves...at least until I get back."  
  
He exited the building. Lilah and Fred regarded each other for a moment, and then Fred retreated into a corner, sitting down on the ground and hugging herself for warmth. Reluctantly, she looked up at the other woman. "I don't suppose you have any blankets?"  
  
"What?" Lilah teased. "No spicy memories to keep you warm?"  
  
When Fred didn't reply, Lilah moved over to a cupboard and pulled out a long blanket. "Here. It's falling apart, but it'll keep you warm."  
  
Fred took it, eying her warily. "What about you? Don't you get cold here?"  
  
"Cold-blooded, remember?" Lilah returned. She smiled and leaned up against the wall, studying Fred. "You really are jealous of me, aren't you?" she inquired after a moment.  
  
"I could say the same." Fred returned with more conviction than she felt.  
  
Lilah shrugged. "Sure– I mean, who doesn't want that fluffy bunny love that's in all the fairytales? I used to want that when I was a little girl, I guess. But we all grow up, Fred. You and Wesley were together for how long? Days? He and I were together for months." She laughed at Fred, shaking her head. "You two never even had the chance to sleep together, did you?"  
  
Fred remained silent.  
  
Moving closer, Lilah stopped a few feet away from Fred, crouching down. "As a woman of the world, Fred, let me explain a little something to you. That perfect, ethereal love? It doesn't exist. Do you think Wesley's going to be dreaming about a few kisses into his pillow at night? Come on, Fred. He's a man. He may claim you as the love of his life, but I'm the one that he'll never forget."  
  
Fred was forcing back tears, now. "Why do you even care? It's not like you loved Wesley."  
  
Lilah rose to her feet, turning her back on her. "You might be surprised." She walked the other direction, pausing at the door. "Listen, Fred, it's better just to forget about him. It's better to forget about that life. Wesley isn't going to save you. None of them are going to save you. So you might as well move on."  
  
She left the room. It wasn't until she was gone that Fred laid down on the ground and allowed the tears to come.


	5. The Gift

**Orpheus  
**author: Elizabeth5  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
rating: PG  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is. Thanks for all the great reviews (keep 'em coming), and I apologize for misspelling Lindsey's name. ;)  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.

chapter five: The Gift  
  
"I'm sorry," Tara said, and seemed as though she meant it. "But the last time I sang, I was under a spell. I can't just make up songs off the top of my head."  
  
"Oh come on," Anya cajoled, trailing closely behind her. "It's easy." She stopped, clearing her throat, then began: "Money...it is good...I like it a lot." She stopped, smiling brightly. "See? Easy."  
  
Behind her, Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Step aside, Elton John." She moved toward Tara, clasping her hands together. "Listen, Tara, I know this isn't going to be easy, and I know that you don't know us directly so there's no real reason for you to help us...but the truth is, we need you. You're kind of our only hope, Obiwan."  
  
Tara hesitated, obviously torn. "I wish I could," she said finally, "but there has to be a reason for me to sing. The spell brought it out of me, but usually I'm t-terrified," She shook her head quickly, clearing herself of her old stuttering habit, "terrified of singing in front of people. I can't even make a sound." Seeing their dejected looks, she gave a sympathetic smile and offered, "I'm sure there's someone else here who can sing..."  
  
Cordelia let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Where is Lorne when you need him? That guy never stopped singing..." She shook her head. "Well, we might as well go back to the library. Regroup."  
  
"Good idea," Doyle said.  
  
They took a few steps in the opposite direction. It took everyone a moment to realize that Wesley wasn't with him; he had remained behind and was holding Tara's gaze. The two remained in silence for a long moment, merely watching one another.  
  
"Please," Wesley said finally, "have you ever known what it's like to love someone? To be willing to risk pain and death for her? I'm willing to do both of those things. All we need from you is a song so I can have the chance. Please."  
  
Tara pressed her eyes together and was silent. Then she nodded. "All right." she said. "I'll do it."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"This is the conduit to the Powers That Be?" Wesley inquired dubiously.  
  
They were standing in front of what appeared to be an ordinary telephone booth on what appeared to be an ordinary street. Wesley craned his neck around to make certain that he was looking at what Cordelia was pointing to, but there was only the telephone booth.  
  
"I know it's a little weird," Cordelia admitted, "but there's your intercom to the higher powers, Wes." She clapped him on the back, giving him an encouraging shove forward. "Good luck."  
  
Wesley reluctantly entered the telephone booth, shutting the door behind him. He expected a great blur of light that would teleport him to the throne of some magnificent creatures, but instead he found himself...still inside the telephone booth. He shrugged at his friends, who were watching him from the street. Doyle motioned for him to pick up the phone, and Wesley sighed but obeyed.   
  
There was a beep, and then a nasally voice greeted him. "Name and purpose, please."  
  
"Ur...Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," Wesley said, "retrieving Fr–Winnifred Burkle from another plane."  
  
"Please hold."  
  
Finally, the blur of light came. Wesley found himself seated on a rather long couch, accompanied by Cordelia, Doyle, Anya, and Tara. Before them was a massive fireplace with a warm fire already burning inside.  
  
Doyle glanced over at Wesley. "So, what's the deal? Did they give you any instructions?"  
  
Wesley frowned at this. "Well, no...at least, I don't think so. What if I missed the instructions?"  
  
"Take it easy, Giles the next generation," Anya instructed in a no-nonsense voice. "Worrying will only annoy me."  
  
"You'd do well to listen to the girl."  
  
Wesley started at the sound of the voice. He glanced around the room, then blinked at the fireplace before him. Suddenly, there was what appeared to be a giant head in the flames.  
  
Cordy seemed similarly taken aback. "That's...well, that's a giant head." She giggled despite herself. "Hey, Zordon."  
  
"I am Ector, conduit to the Powers That Be," the giant head boomed.   
  
Tara was laughing now, too. "It looks like the great and powerful Oz."  
  
Doyle shrugged. "It does have a Harry Potter-ish vibe, doesn't it? The whole communicating through fireplaces thing..."  
  
Ector rolled his eyes. "All right, all right. It's goofy. We're working on rennovations." He cleared his throat, falling back into his deep and booming voice. "But for now, we will discuss the proposition made by one Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."  
  
"I am he." Wesley said, stepping forward.   
  
"You wish to remove Winnifred Burkle from a separate plane, correct?" Wesley nodded, and Ector continued, "You must offer a gift to the Powers That Be in order to be granted such a favor."  
  
"We've brought a gift," Wesley informed him. He motioned to Tara and brought her forward. "We offer a song for the pleasure of the higher powers."  
  
Ector seemed to consider this, then nodded. "Continue."  
  
Swallowing, Tara took in a deep breath and began.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Fred was still crying when Lindsey returned. He carried with him a worn duffel bag that clinked with every step he took. At the sight of Fred on the ground, he set the bag down on the table and moved toward her. Awkwardly, he squatted down and patted her on the back. "Hey...it's all right. I know it's an adjustment, but this place isn't really all that different from L.A. Just a few more mindless zombies...or less, depending on how you look at it."  
  
She sniffed and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. For a moment, she tried for a feeble smile but couldn't quite make it. "I miss my friends," she admitted.  
  
Lindsey smiled sympathetically. "Ahh...come on. I'm better than all those guys put together. There's nothing they do that I can't do just as well, or even better."  
  
He stood up abruptly, pushing up his sleeves. "Look– I'm Angel." The smile faded from his face and his features became surly and brooding. It was actually a very good impression, and Fred laughed, despite herself.  
  
Seeming pleased with this, Lindsey cleared his throat and then started again. "All right, now I'm Spike." He shook his head, adopting a devil-may-care expression and a Cockney accent. "Bleedin' bloody brawlin' blokes...boy, do I hate Angel."  
  
He was really getting into the game now. "And then there's Gunn...What's up, homies? Man, ya'all are _white_..."  
  
Fred laughed again, pulling the blanket more tightly around her. "Don't forget Lorne," she suggested.  
  
Lindsey tensed a bit at the name but obediently threw back his shoulders and belted out a high note in a surprisingly good voice. "It ain't easy being green," he sang, and then grinned at Fred, taking an elaborate bow.  
  
Fred clapped, delighted. Lindsey bowed again and then took a seat beside Fred on the wall, grinning at her reaction. "That was great," Fred said, "you should have been an actor."  
  
"I was an actor," Lindsey informed her. "I acted so much that I forgot who I was, and what I wanted."  
  
The atmosphere had suddenly become more sober. "And what did you want, Lindsey?" Fred inquired. "Angel counted you as an ally once...well, sorta. What changed that?"  
  
Lindsey shrugged. "Who says anything changed? I just realized there was no use fighting anymore. There was no way we could win. And if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?"  
  
Fred shook her head. "No. You have to go on fighting, even if there's no reason to. You have to believe that everything will turn out right, in the end."  
  
He merely laughed at this. "And look where it got you. Here, with me. There you are, the epitome of good, but because you were fighting the good fight, you were recruited to become the body of an ancient demon, and your soul got sucked out and spit out here. Is that the way things were supposed to turn out, Fred?"  
  
She was silent for a moment, smiling ruefully. "It's not so bad, I guess. Besides...I'm not as good as you might think. Maybe I deserve to be here."  
  
"No." Lindsey shook his head. "Not you. You're better than you think...better than the rest of them. I could tell that just by looking at you."  
  
They were silent for a moment. Lindsey turned to her suddenly, his gaze intense. "I forgot one of your friends. I forgot to be Wesley. He's a hard guy to nail down an impression– too complicated, I guess." He raised his hand and trailed a finger along her jawline, leaning in. "But that doesn't mean I couldn't substitute for him..."  
  
Fred turned away, hugging her knees with her arms. Lindsey sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he said. "It just...it gets cold down here sometimes."  
  
"That's all right," Fred said, though she didn't look at him.  
  
There was a laugh from the front of the room. "Well, well, well, what a Kodak moment," Lilah said, stepping into the light. "Forgive me for spying, but that almost got interesting. Leave it to Pollyana to keep everything G-rated, though."  
  
"Shut up, Lilah." Lindsey said bitterly.  
  
Lilah smiled, but her eyes were cold. "No need to get all snippy. Don't forget that I'm the one who saved you, Lindsey. No matter how _warm_ Fred is."  
  
His face turning red, Lindsey rose to his feet. "I told you to shut up--"  
  
He had almost made it to Lilah when the building began to tremble. Lilah and Lindsey both grabbed onto the table to steady themselves, and Fred rose uncertainly to her feet. "What's happening?"  
  
"I don't know," Lindsey said. He glanced at Lilah questioningly.  
  
She shrugged. "Don't look at me."  
  
There was a flash of light and a loud cracking noise, and the room was filled with smoke. As the area began to clear, it became readily apparent that there was now a fourth occupant in the room. He was a tall man, in his forties or so, with red hair and a great big beaming smile.  
  
"Well, hey there," he said, his voice unnaturally chipper after such an entrance, "I'm Richard Wilkins the Third, but feel free to call me Mr. Mayor. Most people do."


	6. Mr Mayor

**Orpheus**  
author: Elizabeth5  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
rating: PG  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.   
  
chapter six: Mr. Mayor  
  
The last notes of Tara's song died away, and the room was deathly silent. Her song had been a thing of real beauty– sad, sweet, hopeful– and there was not a person in the room who hadn't been affected by it. Even Ector was sniffing heavily.   
  
Doyle stared at him incredulously. "Are you– are you crying?"  
  
"No," Ector retorted, perhaps a bit too quickly.  
  
Anya merely blinked at this. "Of course you're crying. Salty liquid is pouring from your eyes. That's what crying is."  
  
"Conduits to higher beings do not cry," Ector protested, sniffing indignantly. "I'm...having an allergic reaction. To the fire." Taking a moment to compose himself, he blinked away the last of the tears. "The Powers That Be have considered your gift and find it acceptable. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce will be allowed to travel to the forbidden plane."  
  
In an instant, Wesley had crushed Tara in his embrace. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair. Tara merely smiled, patting his back in return.  
  
Watching this, Doyle cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his head. "I'm a little confused," he admitted. "I thought Wesley was gonna have to go through all sorts of tests and trials to save Fred, not just hand over one song."  
  
"He has not retrieved Winnifred's soul yet," Ector informed them. "He has merely granted himself passage to the forbidden plane. Once there, the keeper of that plane will subject him to tests in order to bring her back." He turned his gaze to Wesley. "And now, here is the portal to the forbidden plane. Please say your goodbyes quickly– we do have other appointments to keep."  
  
With a rush of wind, the head was gone, and all that was left were the flames. Wesley turned to his friends, smiling weakly. "Well," he said finally, "this is it."  
  
Doyle clapped him on the back. "Good luck, Wes. We'll be rooting for you here."  
  
"Good luck," Tara echoed.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, Anya stepped forward, extending her hand. "Good luck," she said. "Try not to be completely and utterly destroyed."  
  
Wesley smiled at this. "I'll do my best."  
  
Finally, it was only Wesley and Cordelia. She attempted to smile but couldn't; instead, she threw herself into Wesley's arms and held him tightly. "Bring her back to us," she murmured into his shoulder. "And bring yourself back, too."  
  
Wesley tightened his grip on her. "I will."  
  
They hugged for a moment longer and then stepped apart. Wesley gave one last lingering smile to his friends, then turned and vanished into the portal.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Lindsey backed away from the stranger, dragging Lilah with him. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.  
  
The Mayor laughed. "There's no need to be afraid. I'm harmless...mostly. I mean, I can destroy your very soul on a whim, but I wouldn't do that. At least, not usually. Besides, you three happen to be favorites of mine. All gorgeous, charming, complicated people. I'd prefer it if you smiled a bit more often, but I won't quibble."  
  
Lindsey grabbed a nearby pipe and wielded it in his hands. "I'm not gonna say it again. Who are you?"  
  
"Calm down, Captain Confrontation," the Mayor returned, completely unfazed. "I already explained all that. I'm Richard Wilkins the Third– the keeper of this plane. So if you have any complaints, now's the time to direct them to me. There is a suggestion box somewhere around here, but it's so dang hard to find in the dark..."  
  
"The keeper of the plane?" Fred repeated. "So...you're sort of like the jailkeeper around here?"  
  
The Mayor laughed at this, delighted. "I heard you were smart. And cute as a button, too. I could just eat you up...but don't worry, I haven't done _that_ in a while."  
  
"Richard Wilkins," Lilah repeated to herself, frowning. Her face filled with recognition. "You were the mayor of that Hellmouth...Sunnydale. You turned into a giant snake before you were killed by the slayer, Bunny."  
  
"Buffy," Fred corrected.  
  
At the mention of Buffy's name, the Mayor's face darkened. "Yes, well...she may have destroyed my body, but she didn't get to the soul. And fortunately for me, I'd already signed a waver saying I got to be leader of this little plane upon my death. A real nice situation, if I may say so myself."  
  
Lindsey looked bored. "Can I hit him yet?" he inquired.  
  
The Mayor laughed. "I do appreciate you, Lindsey. You got a lotta spunk. But you could use a haircut– clean cut, that's the way to be. Gives a better impression."  
  
He snapped his fingers, and the pipe disappeared from Lindsey's hands. Lindsey hesitated, then allowed his hands to drop to his side. "All right. So you got the power around here. What do you want?"  
  
"I came for Fred," the Mayor informed them, meeting her gaze evenly. "We have some business to discuss."  
  
He moved toward her, but Lindsey stepped in his way. "Over my dead body."  
  
"Oh, Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey," the Mayor said, clearly amused, "There are too many things wrong with that statement to even begin. So let me shorten things by telling you that I'm not going to hurt Fred."  
  
Lindsey was openly skeptical. "You're not?"  
  
"Of course not." the Mayor returned. "In fact, I'm here because someone's trying to give her a chance to upgrade. And you wouldn't want to stand in the way of that, would you?"  
  
Lindsey and Fred exchanged dubious glances. Seeing this, the Mayor continued, "Don't believe me, do you? Well then, see for yourselves."  
  
There was a flash of light, and then there was a fifth person standing in the midst of the room.  
  
Wesley.


	7. Glimpses

**Orpheus  
**author: Elizabeth5  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
rating: PG  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.  
  
chapter seven:Glimpses  
  
For a moment, Wesley was disoriented, glancing about the room. The cold rushed up on him quickly, causing his hands to tremble visibly. He seemed unable to see, his eyes still unaccustomed to the darkness.  
  
Fred was having no such trouble, however. She stumbled past Lindsey and Lilah, desperate to get to him. "Wesley!"  
  
Wesley straightened at the sound of her voice. "Fred?" Still unable to see clearly, he reached out for her blindly. "Fred?"  
  
And just as quickly as he had appeared, Wesley was gone. Fred blinked in surprise, then whirled to face the Mayor. "Bring him back," she demanded.  
  
"Sorry, darling," the Mayor returned, though he didn't really sound it, "but that was just a teaser. To prove to you that this isn't all a trick. Not that I would ever deceive you. Honesty is the best policy, and all."  
  
Fred turned her back on him and took another tentative step forward, where Wesley had been only moments before. The air was still warm from where he stood and still carried that peppery, bookish smell that was Wesley. Or maybe it was only her imagination.  
  
Behind her, Lilah glanced over at the Mayor. "So Wesley's come to make a deal. How very game-showish of him."  
  
"Do I detect some bitterness?" the Mayor chided. "Now, now, Miss Lilah, we like our grapes sweet, not sour." He glanced over at Fred. "Just because Winnifred seems to be the girl of the hour doesn't mean you won't get your turn. Course, the odds are against you..."  
  
"I don't understand," Fred admitted. "Why was Wesley here? And why couldn't he stay?" Her throat was aching now from fighting back the tears, but she couldn't show that weakness. Not with Lilah close by.  
  
The Mayor cleared his throat. "Well, you see, our boy Wesley got himself a one-way ticket to Heaven– eternal paradise, and all that– but that didn't quite satisfy him. Sort of ungrateful if you ask me, but that's beyond the point. So, he made a deal with the higher powers to have the chance to upgrade you to first class. Heaven." He gave Fred a moment to process this, then continued, "Only problem is, if he fails to pass my tests, his soul will be completely and utterly destroyed." He shook his head, chuckling. "Won't find any stakes like that in Vegas."  
  
This was too much to handle at once. "Wesley's dead?" Fred repeated.  
  
"Hate to remind you," the Mayor returned, "but you are, too."  
  
Lindsey placed a comforting hand on her arm. "It's better this way, Fred. He tried to keep on going after you were gone, but even I could see he was different. Broken. And even though I wasn't around to see it, I sure as hell can bet that he went down fighting."  
  
Fred looked at the Mayor hopefully. "Can I see him? Can I talk to him?"  
  
The Mayor shook his head. "No can do. Not until he completes the tasks. Assuming that he does, in fact, complete the tasks. Otherwise..." He traced a finger along his throat and made a face.  
  
Numbly, Fred sank down to the ground. Wesley was in danger of having his very soul destroyed, and she might not even have the chance to see him again, to thank him, to hold him, to tell him that she loved him. It was all too much to bear.  
  
Oblivious to this, the Mayor smiled brightly. "Well, it was pleasant chatting with you all, but I really must get attending to Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Waiting is not his strong suit."  
  
And with that, he was gone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After the brief, unsettling period of cold and darkness, Wesley found himself in a warm, cozy office, complete with a bookshelf and a roaring fire. He glanced around the office, hoping to receive some explanation. "Hello? Anyone there?"   
  
When it was clear that he was going to receive no answer, Wesley began to pace about the office. He knew that he should sit down and try to collect himself, but he was much to anxious to do so. If he was going to be completely obliterated, he'd rather do it soon and get it over with. He had never been good at waiting.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like ages, the chair behind the desk swiveled around, revealing a familiar looking man with reddish hair and a bright smile. It took Wesley a moment to place him as Mayor Wilkins.  
  
"You...?" Wesley inquired wonderingly.  
  
The Mayor merely grinned at this. "_You_! My, how our boy has grown up. I remember you back in Sunnydale– all awkwardness and bowties. But my goodness, this new look suits you. I love the hair, and the stubble...no wonder my girl Winnifred is so crazy about you."  
  
At the mention of Fred, Wesley moved forward eagerly. "You've seen Fred? I heard her voice just a moment ago, but then it was gone... Is she all right? Can I see her?"  
  
"Maybe if this was happy hour at the club," the Mayor returned. "What is it with you two and seeing each other? Doesn't anyone remember that this is an alternate plane designed to drain all life and happiness from its inhabitants? Geesh."  
  
Wesley's face hardened. "So that is how it is to be played. Very well, then. Let's get on with the tasks, shall we? I assure you that there is no pain or torture that you can devise that will keep me from her."  
  
The Mayor laughed. "Calm down, Romeo, there's no need to rush things. Take a seat, have a breather. Would you like some Scotch?"  
  
Wesley glared at him. "No."  
  
"Good man." the Mayor returned. "I was never one for alcohol, myself. Demonic transfiguration and ultimate evil, sure, but there's no need to get reckless."  
  
Pressing his eyes shut, Wesley took in a deep breath. "I really don't mean to be rude, but I'd sort of like to hurry things along."  
  
"Of course, of course," the Mayor said agreeably. "Although...it surprises me. I wonder why you haven't asked about your other friend?"  
  
Wesley frowned at this. "My...my other friend?"  
  
The Mayor smiled. "Lilah. Now, don't tell me you don't remember her. A warm-blooded male such as yourself? I'd certainly have a hard time forgetting."  
  
"Lilah's here," Wesley repeated, and almost literally felt the wind rushing out of him. He sunk down into a chair.  
  
"Oh, she's been here for a while," the Mayor informed him. "But don't worry– it hasn't crushed her spirits any. Not our girl Lilah. She's a fighter, that one is."  
  
Wesley shook his head, trying to clear her thoughts from his mind. "I'm glad that she's coping," he said quietly, "but that doesn't change my mind. I'm still here to bring Fred back."  
  
The Mayor arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I'd be interested to hear what Lilah thinks about that..."  
  
And before Wesley could blink, the Mayor was gone, leaving Lilah in his place.


	8. Choices

**Orpheus  
**author: Elizabeth5  
pairing: W/F, with some C/D, C/A, and other tidbit pairings from the Buffyverse  
summary: After Wesley's death, he learns that there is still a chance to save Fred's soul. It's all about closure, baby.  
category: romance, angst, action/adventure  
rating: PG  
author's note: There's no denying that Joss Whedon is a genius, but I need a little more closure. So here it is.  
Disclaimer: none of this is mine. Sadly.  
  
chapter eight: Choices  
  
"I can't take it anymore!"  
  
With a frustrated sigh, Cordelia rose to her feet and began to pace around the diner, her already-gnawed fingernails returning to her mouth. She chewed absent-mindedly for a moment before adding, "Why is it taking so long? Is it supposed to take this long?"  
  
Anya watched her from behind the counter, her face unsympahetic. "Please," she said finally, "stop pacing. It annoys me."  
  
For the thousandth time that day, Cordelia wondered why she was with Anya of all people. Doyle had become far too restless to just sit around and had gone off to bowl and burn off some steam– something about bowling shoes soothing the feet, or something. Tara had to leave to work at the music store, and none of the old gang from Sunnydale– Joyce, Jenny, Jonathan, Larry– knew Wesley all that well, and so they were hardly sympathetic. So for some unexplicable reason, Cordelia found herself with Anya, wondering why the Powers That Be were so inclined to punish her.   
  
"Well, excuse me for being a little on edge, Captain Calm." Cordelia retorted. "One of my best friends happens to be putting his very existence on the line as we speak."  
  
"He'll be fine." Anya said with a quick wave of her hand. "He's British, which makes him naturally resourceful...and his pension for giving away money shouldn't hurt, either."  
  
She said it with a sort of wistful glow about her, and Cordelia shook her head, her memory inadvertantly wandering back to her first meeting with Wesley in Sunnydale. He'd seemed so charming to her then, so debonair. Oh, how the times had changed. Still, she wouldn't trade her brave but lovably awkward Wesley for any of the James Bond wannabes in the world.  
  
To her surprise, there was suddenly a hand on her shoulder. Cordelia looked up to see  
Anya smiling rather awkwardly as she patted her in what was supposed to be a comforting manner. "There, there. Everything will be fine. You'll see."  
  
Cordelia merely blinked at her. "You're really not good at this whole human emotions thing, are you?"  
  
Anya ignored this. "You know what always makes me feel better? Counting and stacking money."  
  
Sighing, Cordelia rolled her eyes. Like she was really going to sit around counting money while Wesley's soul was in grave danger.  
  
A moment later, Cordelia and Anya sat on the countertop, counting money and stacking it into neat little piles. Cordelia turned to Anya, smiling grudgingly. "You know...this is actually kinda fun..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"Lilah," Wesley murmured quietly.  
  
If she seemed surprised at suddenly being pulled from her dark, cold shelter into a warmly lit den with a roaring fire, Lilah didn't show it. Of course, she'd had years at Wolfram and Hart to practice the art of composure.  
  
"Wesley," Lilah acknowledge him in return. "I'd say it's good to see you, but you might take it as me saying that I'm glad you're dead."  
  
Wesley watched her carefully. "Are you?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous." Lilah said, smiling. "If I'd wanted you dead, I had plenty of time and opportunity."  
  
They were silent, both unsure of how to continue. Wesley cleared his throat. "How have you been?"  
  
"Trapped in an unspeakably cold, destitute existence with no hope for escape," Lilah returned coolly. "And you?"  
  
Wesley shrugged. "Worked for Wolfram and Hart."  
  
There was a trace of a smile on her lips. "So we're even, then."  
  
Another uncomfortable silence. Wesley tugged at his collar. "Lilah, I– "  
  
"Take me instead." Lilah interrupted.  
  
Wesley stared at her. "What?"  
  
Lilah met his gaze evenly. "You came to rescue Fred, didn't you? Take me instead."  
  
He paused for a moment, composing himself, then smiled ruefully. "You've never been one for beating around the bush, have you?"  
  
"Wesley." She came around the desk, kneeling down before him, looking plaintively into his eyes. "I've never been one to beg, have I?" He shook his head. "Then you know what it means for me to be here in front of you, on my knees, _begging_. I can't go back there. I've been brave and I've survived this long, but I can't do it anymore. Please don't make me."  
  
Wesley frowned at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Lilah. I had no idea what you were going through. Truly. But I came down here for Fred..."  
  
"So make a trade." Lilah said simply. "Tell the Mayor you've changed your mind." Seeing the confusion on his face, she moved in closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Wesley, please...didn't we have fun together?"  
  
He swallowed. "Yes."  
  
She took his hand, guiding it to her lips, where she kissed each fingertip carefully. "And in all that time together, didn't you come to love me, even a little?"  
  
There was pure anguish in his eyes now. "Yes."  
  
Lilah looked at him earnestly. "I loved you, too, Wesley. I couldn't ever say it because I couldn't bring myself to admit it...but I loved you. I love you still. You're the warmth that has allowed me survive all this time. Please, Wesley, if you ever loved me at all, don't make me stay."  
  
He held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes clearly torn. And then slowly, deliberately, he looked away. "I'm sorry, Lilah. I did love you...but I love Fred. I've always loved Fred."  
  
Lilah drew away, staring at him accusingly. "Then you condemn me to that place forever."  
  
Wesley took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I know."  
  
And then she was gone.


	9. Something Wicked this way Comes

chapter nine: Something Wicked This Way Comes  
  
Fred paced the dimly lit room, her normally pleasant features agitated. Abruptly, she grabbed a chair and threw it at the wall. It clattered harmlessly against the bricks and fell back to the ground.  
  
Lindsey watched her in mild surprise. "Feel better?" he inquired.  
  
"Strangely, yes." Fred returned. She began pacing again, chewing absent-mindedly at the fingernails on one hand. She turned suddenly to Lindsey, her eyes troubled. "Lilah's been gone for a long time. And Wesley. Which means they're probably together. Which means that Lilah's probably up to her old tricks."  
  
"Probably," Lindsey agreed, settling up against the wall and wrapping himself in Fred's discarded blanket.  
  
Fred glanced over at him, her features miserable. "Do you think it's working?"  
  
Lindsey sighed, opening up the blanket. "Come here," he instructed. Fred obligingly seated herself beside him, and he wrapped her in the blanket along with him. When she was settled, he cleared his throat. "Listen, I'm not good with this whole mushy, touchy-feely nice-guy thing, but I do know a thing or two about love. Now, there are two kinds of love. The painful, bite you in the butt kinda love, and the beautiful, lift you up to greater heights love. Following me so far?"  
  
She frowned at him. "I think so."  
  
"The first kind of love is passionate," Lindsey informed her, "rips out your soul, gets you right in the gut. It can completely destroy a man if he isn't careful." His eyes got a far-off look in them. "Like Darla. Man, she was beautiful. Mysterious. And she had those eyes, that body--"  
  
Fred squirmed uncomfortably. "Moving on..."  
  
Lindsey cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. "Right. Well, anyway, I loved Darla, but it was the wrong kind of love. It was only gonna drag me down. Then I met Eve. Beautiful, manipulative, ambiguously evil...my perfect match. We fit together, and we built each other up. That's the real kind of love. No matter how deeply I felt for Darla, she can't touch that thing I have with Eve."  
  
There was a moment of silence. "Well, that's sweet and all, Lindsey," Fred said finally, "but I don't really see how that's supposed to buoy my spirits."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "You know, for a smart girl, you can really be kind of dense." He shook his head. "Let me spell it out for you, Tex. Wesley and Lilah may have had a fling, and they may have even cared for each other, but it was that first kind of love. Doomed to fail, to tear both of them down. But you and Wes...you're like the poster children for that perfect kind of love. I barely saw the two of you together, and even I could see how powerful you two were as a team. Wesley's a smart guy, and he's crazy about you. No matter how convincing Lilah is, there's no way that she's gonna get her man. 'Cuz his heart belongs to you."  
  
Fred took a moment, absorbing this, and then she smiled at him. "That was actually really beautiful, Lindsey."  
  
He shrugged. "I have my moments."  
  
There was a flash of light, and then Lilah was standing in the midst of the room. Her face looked haggard, vulnerable, and she stood shivering in the midst of the room. But upon seeing them, the old composed Lilah mask quickly returned, and she sneered at them. "Well, aren't you two cozy. Am I missing out on the girl-talk?"  
  
Lindsey merely smiled at this. "I don't know that you'd be all that comfortable with girl-talk, Lilah," he drawled, "that would require you to, you know, have human emotions."  
  
Lilah glared at him. "I think someone's forgetting who saved him from the darkness. I'd choose my allies carefully if I were you." With that, she turned and exited the room.  
  
Unfazed by this, Lindsey turned to Fred. "Looks like Lilah's unhappy. Which means that things didn't go too well with Wes." He reached out, squeezing her arm. "You may just get out of here yet..."  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Before Wesley could muster too much of a reaction to Lilah's departure, the Mayor was once again in the room. "I gotta say, that was downright touching," he said, shaking his head. "Here Lilah was, pouring her heart out to you, but you stayed strong. Kept your eye on the goal. That takes a lot of strength, Wesley."  
  
Wesley set his mouth into a thin line, forcing aside any guilt over Lilah. "Can I see Fred yet?" he inquired.  
  
"Not quite," the Mayor returned, "although that impressive little display may have just bumped up your chances. I had all sorts of tests planned– fire and brimstone, flesh-eating piranhas, Richard Simmons– but you inspired me. Truly. In fact, how would you feel about having only one final test to decide whether or not you get to take your lady friend back to Heaven?"  
  
"What's the test?" Wesley inquired, keeping his face impassive.  
  
"It's simple, really," the Mayor explained, leaning back in his chair. "A test of trust."  
  
"I don't trust you," Wesley said flatly.  
  
The Mayor laughed. "Not between you and me, silly. I should be offended, but I can't say that I blame you. No, trust between you and Winnifred. Could you pick her out of a crowd by her touch alone? And would you trust that intuition, no matter the consequences?"  
  
Wesley frowned at him. "What are you proposing?"  
  
"I'll bring you Fred," the Mayor explained, looking quite pleased with himself, "but you won't be able to look at her, or talk to her. You'll only be able to touch her hand. And once you're satisfied that she is, in fact, Fred, you can take her back to Heaven with you. But there's a catch."  
  
"I wouldn't expect anything less."  
  
The Mayor spread out his hands dramatically. "You can't look at her or speak to her until you get to Heaven. And if it turns out that you chose the wrong girl, you're stuck with her, and Fred stays down here with me. If you cheat and look at her before you get to Heaven, she stays here with me and your soul gets used for kindling." The Mayor leaned toward Wesley, his eyes glinting. "So, I guess the real question is, do you trust your love? Do you trust that you'll be able to recognize her?"  
  
Wesley was silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. And then he nodded.   
  
"Bring her to me." 


	10. Of Tests and Tricks

a/n: sorry this took so long to get out. The next one should be out shortly. Thanks for all the great reviews!   
  
**chapter ten: of tests and tricks**  
  
No sooner had Lilah left the room than there was a blur of light, and the Mayor was standing before Fred and Lindsey. If he felt any surprise at seeing them so friendly together, he didn't let on. "Time to pack your bags, Winnifred," he said brightly, "you're going on a little trip."  
  
Fred rose to her feet, eying him warily. "What do you mean, trip?"  
  
"Your beloved Wesley has made a deal," the Mayor informed her, "and quite a juicy one at that."  
  
He proceeded to tell her all the details of the transaction he had made with Wesley. When he was finished, Lindsey stared at him in open shock. "Wesley's supposed to be able to tell it's Fred, just by the touch of her hand? And he's not allowed to look at her until they get to Heaven?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "That's crazy. And Fred would have to be crazy to agree to it."  
  
Fred looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. "I'll do it," she said quietly.  
  
The Mayor grinned. "Atta-girl."  
  
"Fred," Lindsey protested, pulling her aside. "Do you have any idea how risky this is? If Wesley fails– and he probably will fail– then his soul will be completely destroyed, and you'll be doomed to stay here forever, no second chances."  
  
She sighed. "I know it's risky. Believe me, I do. But I trust Wesley."  
  
Lindsey let out a short laugh. "Trust has nothing to do with this, sweetheart. He's gonna go off one touch of your hand. One measley little touch. What makes you think that he'll be able to know you from that?"  
  
"Because Wesley's always known me," Fred explained softly, "he's always seen me, even when no one else did. He can do this."  
  
Lindsey hesitated, but only momentarily, then smiled wryly. "Well, who can argue with that sort of romantic crap?" He pulled her into a tight embrace. "Good luck, Tex. And put in a good word for me on the other side."  
  
Before Fred could reply, the Mayor had taken her by the arm. "Remember, you're not allowed to speak to him. No funny business. Just one touch of the hand. And if he looks at you, game over."  
  
"I understand," Fred returned with more conviction than she felt.  
  
Everything faded from view, and Fred and the Mayor were suddenly standing in a well-furnished office. There was another man in the room who was facing the opposite wall; but even with just the back view, Fred recognized him instantly. Wesley. Her Wesley. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him, and only the tiniest thread of self-restraint kept her from doing so. There would be time for that later, when Wesley succeeded.   
  
"Here she is," the Mayor said brightly, moving to stand in front of Wesley. "Winnifred, in the flesh."  
  
"I'd like to confirm that for myself," Wesley responded.  
  
Obligingly, the Mayor moved Fred so that she was standing just behind Wesley, their hands only inches apart. He motioned for her to stay still and then walked back in front of Wesley. "All right, Romeo. Reach your hand back and give it a little sneak peak. But just one squeeze of the hand– no funny business."  
  
Fred looked down and saw Wesley's hand inching toward her, reaching out uncertainly. She glanced up at the Mayor and waited for his nod of approval before moving her own hand to close the distance between herself and Wesley. Their fingers entwined together, uniting the two palms into one.   
  
"Fred?" Wesley inquired wonderingly.   
  
Tears flowing down her face, Fred squeezed his hand in response.  
  
"All right, all right," the Mayor interrupted, pulling their hands apart. "Don't make me turn the hose on you two." He turned to Wesley, his face unreadable. "So, is she the girl, or isn't she?"  
  
"That's her," Wesley returned, "I'm sure of it."  
  
For the first time since dying, Fred felt her first real burst of happiness. Wesley recognized her; he had passed the test. They were going to escape from this place and be together forever...  
  
It took her a moment to realize that Wesley was no longer moving, breathing. He seemed frozen in time like some sort of statue. She turned to the Mayor wonderingly. "What's wrong? What happened to him?"  
  
"Sorry, Fred," the Mayor returned, "this is where you get off."  
  
She stared at him, a horrible feeling sinking into the pit of her stomach. "What do you mean?"  
  
The Mayor smiled apologetically at her. "Now, don't get upset, but I've decided to change the rules a little. And by change, I mean disregard them completely. See, you're a nice girl and all, but I picked out my favorites a long time ago. Lilah's a real fighter, a champion– reminds me of a girl I once knew. She deserves something more than this place. And that's why she gets the free ticket to Heaven, not you."  
  
What happened next was a blur, but Fred heard herself screaming and then found herself back in the cold, dark building. Lindsey appeared from another room, his face filled with worry. He took her by the shoulders and steadied her. "Fred, calm down. What happened?"  
  
Unable to form words just yet, Fred threw herself into his arms and sobbed. Lindsey held her for a moment, silently offering her what comfort he could. When she had quieted somewhat, he pulled back and looked at her sympathetically. "He didn't recognize you?"  
  
"He did," Fred countered, her voice shaking, "He knew me. But the Mayor tricked us. He's sending Lilah in my place, and there's nothing I can do about it." An image of Wesley flashed before her mind, and she pressed her eyes shut to stop the tears. "I've lost him."  
  
But when she opened her eyes again, Lindsey was smiling at her, a determined sort of glint in his eyes. "No," he asserted, "This isn't over yet– not by a long shot." 


	11. Eurydice Returns

disclaimer: all the usual stuff

a/n: thanks for all the reviews!

Chapter eleven: Eurydice Returns  
  
The truck sped through the dimly lit streets, careening dangerously around corners. Fred gripped the front of the seat, tensely watching the road. "Lindsey, watch out! There are people!"  
  
Lindsey only pressed down further on the accelerator, a boyish sort of grin on his face. "Ten points for the old lady."  
  
"Lindsey!"  
  
"What? They're dead," he reminded her. "I'm sure that being run over by a truck is the least of their worries."  
  
Fred remained silent, tightening her grip on the seat. She suddenly realized why Lindsey had such an aversion to cops; he'd obviously had many, many driving infractions.   
  
"Do you even have any idea where we're going?" Fred inquired as Lindsey purposefully veered out of the way to hit a man on the side of the road.   
  
"I saw this place once when I was out salvaging for scrap metal," Lindsey informed her, "this...door, out in the middle of nowhere. Just a door. I tried to get close to it, but it threw me backward. Burned the hell out of me. I still have the mark."  
  
Fred felt a surge of hope. "And you think this door is the portal?"  
  
Lindsey shook his head wryly. "It better be, 'cuz otherwise we're screwed..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Wesley walked slowly down the dimly lit street, careful not to move too fast so that Fred could keep up with him. It was taking all of his self-reserve not to glance back and look at her. In the moment he had touched her hand during the test, it had felt so right; he had been certain it was Fred. But now he was plagued with doubts. What if he had been wrong? What if he got to Heaven and realized that he'd lost Fred forever?  
  
But he couldn't allow himself to think that way. It was her; it had to be.  
  
"I know you can't answer me," Wesley said after a moment, "but I don't think I can stand the quiet anymore. I don't know how you survived in this place for so long."  
  
He glanced up and down the street. There were people lining the sidewalks, motionless, watching them. They remained completely stationary as Wesley and Fred passed. Wesley guessed that the Mayor was somehow keeping them back. He was glad for it; the thought of their cold, clammy skin touching him was almost too much to bear.   
  
As he thought of this, he remembered that Fred's skin had still contained some warmth when he touched her during the test. "Someone was taking care of you, weren't they?" he realized aloud. "An old friend, perhaps? Well, whoever they are, I'm eternally grateful."  
  
They continued walking down the road in silence. The Mayor had promised Wesley that he would recognize the portal when he saw it. As they rounded the corner, Wesley knew with a certainty that the Mayor hadn't been exaggerating. It loomed before him, a large door, massive in splendor, completely solitary in the darkness.  
  
"Well," he said, "this is it."  
  
He moved forward toward the door, but suddenly there was a screeching of tires and a large truck was blocking him from the door. Wesley felt a surge of fear and reached behind him to make certain Fred was still there; his hand brushed against an arm and he breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Don't worry," he said with more courage than he felt, "I won't let them take you."  
  
The driver's door swung open and a man stepped out into the headlights. It took Wesley a moment to recognize him as Lindsey. He frowned, taken aback. "Lindsey? What on Earth are you doing here?"  
  
"No time to explain," Lindsey returned briskly. "But you're gonna have to trust me. That isn't Fred, it's Lilah."  
  
Wesley felt the old doubt surfacing once again. He kept his face impassive. "Why should I trust you? We aren't friends."  
  
"No, we aren't," Lindsey agreed, "but Fred and I became friends down here. Trust me, that isn't her."  
  
Was it possible? Wesley had never been able to read Lindsey. At times, he seemed almost sincere in his efforts to do good, and at others...   
  
"I touched Fred's hand," Wesley countered, "I recognized her."  
  
Lindsey shook his head. "That was Fred, but the Mayor switched her with Lilah. Please, Wesley, you have to believe me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I'm telling you the truth. I have nothing to gain by lying to you."   
  
Wesley had never felt more confused. "But how do I know that?" he inquired. "How do I know that you didn't make a deal with the Mayor– keep me from rescuing Fred, and you get to go to Heaven?"  
  
Lindsey looked desperate now. "Listen, Fred is right here in the truck. She can't come out because we don't know what will happen if you see her before going through the door– the Mayor may count that against all of us. Please, you have to trust me."  
  
Wesley squinted, looking into the window. It was too dark to really see anything, but he could barely make out the outline of a person sitting in the passenger seat. His heart jumped into his chest. This was all too confusing. He couldn't come this far and then lose her again.  
  
He stepped up tentatively to the truck, reaching out his hand and placing it up against the window. "Fred...?"  
  
"No!!!"   
  
Recognizing Lilah's voice, Wesley started to turn. "Don't look at her!" Lindsey reminded him anxiously. Wesley jerked back, pressing his eyes shut.  
  
"Lilah," he whispered, the anger mounting inside of him. "You were going to trick me? You were going to let me take you in her place?"  
  
"It's my place!" Lilah screamed. "Mine! I won't stay here!"  
  
"Fred is right here in the truck," Lindsey shouted, his voice rising above Lilah's screams, "it isn't too late to take her instead!"  
  
"You don't know that that's really Fred!" Lilah insisted. "It could be someone else, someone far worse than me, Wesley. At least with me you'll know who you're taking to the other side."  
  
Wesley felt the blood rushing to his head. This was too much– it was all too much.   
  
And then there was a third voice joining the mix. "Come on, Wesley," the Mayor taunted, "I can't keep the portal open all day. Who's it gonna be? Our girl Lilah, or mystery girl behind the door? Can you really trust Lindsey?"  
  
Wesley was silent, pondering. And then slowly, deliberately, he reached out and opened the door to the truck, careful to keep his head turned the other way. He reached out a hand to whoever was inside and felt another hand grasp it; but it was too cold by now to tell much from the touch.  
  
Slowly, they walked toward the door, each step seeming like a mile, each heartbeat seeming like a thunderclap, until the doorknob was only a few inches away. Wesley hesitated only momentarily before reaching forward and pushing open the door.  
  
And then they walked through together.


	12. Of Pancakes and BLT's

disclaimer: you know what belongs here  
  
a/n: once again, you guys are awesome with the reviews.   
  
Chapter twelve: Of Pancakes and BLT's  
  
There was a flash of brilliant lights, and the wind surged past them violently. It was all Wesley could manage to stay standing and to keep hold of Fred's hand. When the chaos had ended, he was standing outside of the diner once more. Only then did he turn to look at her.  
  
Fred.  
  
It was Fred.  
  
It was _Fred.  
_  
They merely stared at one another for a moment, too overcome to speak, and then they were closing the distance between them, desperately clinging to one another. This was no by the book, sweeping music reunion; this was the reunion of two lovers denied the opportunity to share a life together, of two souls that had been prematurely ripped apart, and it was messy. Painful. But beautiful.  
  
"Fred," Wesley managed when the broken sobs and moans of anguish had finally subsided, "thank God it's you."  
  
Her face was buried against his chest, and she was holding onto him so tightly that it was painful; he couldn't seem to mind. "I knew you'd come for me...I knew you'd come for me..."  
  
He reached for her chin, tilted up her face so that he could study her. "Are you all right? I'm sorry you were left for so long down there..."  
  
"I survived," Fred returned, smiling through her tears, "Lindsey helped me. He went out of his way to protect me, and now..."  
  
But she couldn't bear to think of that, not now when she had just become happy again. If there was anything she could do for Lindsey...but it was impossible.   
  
To distract herself, she let her gaze run over her new surroundings. It was so warm, so blissfully warm. There were parks and grass and trees– oh, she'd missed trees!– and most importantly, there was Wesley. And for some odd reason, a diner.  
  
"Is that a diner?" she inquired, furrowing her brow.  
  
Wesley glanced back over his shoulder. "Yes, it is. It's quite a place– they make a mean BLT. Are you hungry?"  
  
Fred shook her head quickly. "No! Well, yes, but that's such a lame thing to do. I mean, we were just reunited and your soul was nearly destroyed for me and– "  
  
"–and we'll have the rest of eternity to discuss it," Wesley finished gently. "Why don't we get you some food?"  
  
Once inside the diner, a plate of pancakes was brought to Fred before she even ordered, and a BLT was brought to Wesley. Fred's mouth literally salivated at the sight of the food, and she glanced up quickly to smile at the waitress. "Thank you...Jenny."  
  
"No problem," the dark-haired, pretty woman returned, smiling at them. "And congratulations, you two. That was a brave thing you did."  
  
No sooner had Fred taken two bites into the most delicious pancakes she had ever eaten than the door burst open and a pretty but unrecognizable blonde woman rushed in. She marched purposefully over to Wesley. "You survived," she said briskly, "and your soul wasn't destroyed. Congratulations."  
  
"Thanks," Wesley said, glancing to Fred. "Fred, I'd like to introduce you to Anya, an old friend from Sunnydale. She helped do the research in order to release you."  
  
Fred smiled brightly at her. "Hi. Thanks for everything."  
  
Anya gave a curt nod. "I'm used to doing the research. And I was glad to help Wesley. He's quite a fellow."  
  
Fred met Wesley's gaze, still smiling. "He certainly is."  
  
Jenny the waitress appeared from behind the counter. "Oh, hi, Anya. Thanks for taking my shift. He should be here any minute."  
  
"He?" Wesley inquired curiously.  
  
The bell above the door rang, and Jenny smiled to herself. "Rupert."  
  
Seeing the confusion on Fred's and Wesley's faces, Anya cleared her throat. "Every time a bell rings– "  
  
"An angel gets its wings?" Fred finished tentatively.  
  
Anya stared at her as though she'd grown a third arm. "Don't be ridiculous. Angels don't need wings– they have golf carts. The bell rings whenever a new person is entering Heaven."  
  
The door to the diner burst open again, and there were Cordelia, Doyle, and Tara. All rushed over and began offering their congratulations. Cordelia and Fred hugged tightly and did the whole girly thing about gushing how good they looked, while Doyle and Wesley more manfully shook hands and talked about the weather.  
  
The bell rang once again over the door, and Doyle shook his head ruefully. "This place is about to get flooded. The final battle is over between Angel and the baddies."  
  
Cordelia glanced down at her watch. "Which reminds me– I have to go see Gunn."  
  
"Did we win then?" Tara inquired hopefully.  
  
"Of course," Doyle returned, "good vs evil and all that, remember? But that doesn't mean we won't have a few new friends up here..."  
  
Wesley looked up and glanced around. There were many people he didn't recognize, but there was also Gunn in the back booth with Cordelia, and Giles talking to Jenny the waitress, and that Nina girl whom Angel had briefly dated...  
  
There was a sudden beeping noise, and Wesley glanced down at his watch in surprise. "Funny...I didn't even know I was wearing a watch."  
  
"That's your pager, mate," Doyle informed him, "it means you're supposed to meet with someone who just got here."  
  
Wesley furrowed his brow in confusion. "But...who?"  
  
"You'll know when you see 'em."  
  
Wesley obligingly rose to his feet, glancing back at Fred. "Come with me?"   
  
Together they searched the crowded diner until Wesley's gaze finally fell upon a nearly-empty booth. There was a darkly pretty girl sitting there, looking around rather nervously.   
  
Faith.  
  
At one time, he might have balked at the idea of being the one to bring her into Heaven, but now it seemed the natural way of things. He had been her watcher, and now he was finally getting the chance to guide her.  
  
"Mind if I sit down?"  
  
"Wesley," Faith said quickly, sounding almost relieved at seeing a familiar face, "and...Fred, right?"  
  
"Yeah." Fred returned kindly, giving a quick smile. "Hi."  
  
They seated themselves across from her. Faith shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "So, I'm dead, right?"  
  
"Yes," Wesley confirmed quietly, "but the news is good. You're in Heaven."  
  
Faith gave a short laugh. "Me? Heaven? That's rich."  
  
"You turned your life around, Faith," Wesley reminded her, "and the Higher Powers have recognized that. I'm very proud of you for making it."  
  
There was the flicker of an emotion in Faith's eyes, though she quickly composed herself. "Thanks, Wes." She leaned back in her seat. "I gotta say, I'm kinda surprised to see the two of you here together. Rumor had it that Fred's soul was all burned up."  
  
Wesley and Fred exchanged a quick glance. "Well, it's sort of a long story..." Wesley began.  
  
"My soul was stuck in the middle ground between Heaven and Hell," Fred explained, "and Wesley came to save me. But I was being protected by Lindsey– "  
  
"Lindsey the laywer?" Faith repeated dubiously, then laughed at herself. "Check me out, being skeptical of people changing their lives around."  
  
"And he did change," Fred said quietly, looking troubled. "I wish there was a way we could save him, but there's no way the Mayor would let him go– "  
  
Faith's face had grown very pale. "What did you just say?"  
  
Wesley's eyes dawned with recognition. "The Mayor. He's the Guardian of the middle plane."  
  
Fred looked back and forth between them, clearly confused. "What's going on? Did I miss something?"  
  
Faith and Wesley were smiling at one another now. "Let's just say," Faith returned evenly, "that there may be a way to rescue our boy Lindsey yet." 


	13. Aftermath the Second

**Orpheus**

**Author: Elizabeth5**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, bla bla bla.**

Chapter Thirteen: Aftermath the Second  
  
The once easy-going atmosphere of the café was radically changed as anyone remotely connected to Sunnydale gathered together to brainstorm ideas on how to rescue Lindsey. Anya had initially balked because of the negative effect it was sure to have on business, but had retracted her complaints when she realized how much coffee everyone was ordering.  
  
Right in the midst of the group were Wesley and Fred, both intent upon helping to save the man who had helped to bring them back together. "We'll have to find a new offering," Wesley spoke up, frowning as he absent-mindedly rubbed at his chin. "Tara's song won't be usable again."  
  
"We could make them some DNA chrystals," Fred said brightly, then frowned, "except, the powers are the ones who gave humans the knowledge about science in the first place, so they probably already know how to make them. Also, they don't have DNA..."  
  
"Hold on," Cordelia interrupted, shaking her head. "Something isn't right."  
  
Bristling at this, Faith turned to face her. "What? You think we're not allowed to save Lindsey just 'cuz he made a few mistakes in his life? He's redeemed himself, all right, and it's not an easy thing to do. So just back off."  
  
Cordelia merely rolled her eyes at this. "Over-sensitive, much? What I meant was that there's way too many people trying to help, and we're all just getting in the way. Fred and Wesley, leave."  
  
"Excuse me?" Fred returned, rising indignantly to her full height, which wasn't all that daunting. "I'm the one who owes Lindsey most of all. If anyone's gonna help, it's gonna be me–"  
  
"Cordelia's right," Doyle spoke up, winning himself a huge smile from the ex-cheerleader/conduit to the higher powers. "There are too many people here. Whoever votes Fred and Wesley out, raise your hands."  
  
The hands in the group were unanimously raised. Wesley looked around incredulously. "Well, what an incredibly offensive way to tell us we're not wanted."  
  
Gunn laughed at this. "Come on, Wes, don't get all butt-hurt. We're just trying to let you and Fred spend some time together. Y'all were pulled apart way before your time, and now you just barely get back together after suffering all kinds of crap. So stop arguing and have some quality time, all right? We got this."  
  
Before they could argue any further, they were rather unceremoniously pushed out of the diner. Seeming rather pleased with herself, Cordelia turned back to face the group. "All right, still kinda over-crowded. Giles and Jenny, get out."  
  
"But– " Seeing the faces of everyone around them, Giles and Jenny resginedly left the diner.  
  
Soon, the group had been narrowed down to the original trio of Doyle, Cordelia, and Anya, plus Faith and Gunn this time around. Once Cordelia was satisfied with the numbers, she smiled grimly at the group. "All right, we have work to do. The Powers aren't gonna accept a song this time around. They're big on originality, and all that."  
  
Anya cleared her throat. "I have an idea."  
  
Faith chewed on her lip. "Hey, maybe we could– "  
  
Doyle grabbed her arm, silencing her, and motioned to Anya. "Maybe we better listen to the girl this time around..."  
  
After Anya had explained her idea, everyone sat in silence, pondering. Finally, Gunn shrugged. "Well, it's better than anything I coulda come up with." He looked at Anya admiringly. "Who are you, anyway?"  
  
"Anya Christina Emannuela Jenkins," Anya spoke up proudly. "Former vengeance demon and co-owner of the Magic Shop, once engaged to Cordelia's ex-boyfriend, currently a waitress. I died saving the world from an apocalypse. Oh, and I'm an excellent bowler."  
  
Gunn couldn't help but grin at her. "My kind of woman..."

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"Is it wrong that I'm enjoying this?" Fred inquired.  
  
They were in a bright and sunny park, swinging side by side, lightly holding hands so much as the movement would permit. Wesley glanced over at Fred, smiling at the mere sight of her. He'd been doing that a lot lately.  
  
"They'll save him," he said simply, "I have every confidence in Cordelia, Doyle, Faith, and Gunn. And, oddly enough, Anya."  
  
Fred turned to him and smiled. "I guess you're right," she said, and then abruptly added, "And I love you." Seeing the surprise on his face, she elaborated, "I never got to tell you that. But I did. I think I loved you all along, but I was too scared, you know? 'Cuz it fit too well."  
  
Wesley stopped, staring at her. He had waited so long to hear those words– he couldn't remember the actual amount of time, per say, but it felt like forever. And here she was, soul completely intact. Telling him that she loved him.  
  
"I'm convinced now," he said.  
  
She smiled at him self-consciously. "What?"  
  
"That this is Heaven."

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Ector the Giant Head rolled his eyes as Cordelia, Doyle, and Anya came into view. "You people again? Can't you read the sign?"  
  
They turned their gazes to the far wall, where a plaque was hanging on the wall. It read quite simply: Repeat Visits Not Encouraged.  
  
Faith smirked at this, stepping forward. "Yeah, well, good thing this is my first time. We're here to make a deal."  
  
Ector eyed her over with obvious admiration in his rather large eyes. "Well, well. You can come visit any time you like, sweetheart."  
  
Faith stopped midstride, looking visibly disturbed. She turned to Cordelia, lowering her voice. "Is the Giant Head hitting on me?"   
  
"Looks like it," Cordelia said, equally creeped out.   
  
"Weird." Faith said, shaking her head.

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"So, this is your room?" Fred inquired nervously, glancing around Wesley's sparsely decorated room. "It's very...roomy. Nice tv."  
  
Wesley smiled at this. "Don't be too impressed. You have your own television. Your own room, in fact. All you have to do is will yourself to be there– "  
  
Abruptly, the room they were standing in changed. The room they were now in was clearly Fred's; there was a Dixie Chicks poster on the wall, a flower-print bed, and various stuffed animals. She glanced at Wesley wonderingly. "I guess each room is designed for the person inhabiting it."  
  
"Guess so," Wesley said, then frowned. "I suppose that doesn't reflect too well on me..."  
  
Fred squealed and rushed forward. "Hey, I have furniture!"  
  
Wesley walked around the room, examining it. "And a walk-in closet. How keen."  
  
When he turned again, Fred was standing very close to him, smiling up at him innocently. "So, we're all alone in my room. What do you wanna do?"  
  
He cleared his throat, resisting the urge to reach up and tug at his collar or fiddle with his glasses as he usually did when nervous. "Well, I suppose we could watch a little television, if you'd like...or perhaps play a card game...?"  
  
The smile faded from Fred's face. "Gee, Wesley, I love ya, but you sure are slow on the uptake."  
  
She leaned forward and kissed him. And then he was kissing her back. And then she was intensifying the kiss, and then so was he. This continued for quite some time, until they finally pulled up for air.   
  
"Not slow on the uptake," Wesley corrected, "just trying to be a gentleman."  
  
She rewarded him with a smile. "Yeah, well...stop that, okay?"  
  
And then they were kissing yet again.

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Faith stood in the Mayor's empty office for a few moments, boredly looking over the books and trinkets on the shelf. Her gaze fell upon the Books of Ascension, and she smiled. "Sentimental old fart," she murmured to herself.  
  
Out of the corner of her eyes there was a blur of light, and then a familiar voice. "Listen, I don't have a whole lot of time so if you could just..."  
  
The Mayor's voice trailed off, and she turned to him, smiling at the look of shock on his face. "Long time no see," she said simply.  
  
"Faith." The Mayor stared at her for a moment longer and then grinned. "I can't believe...well, just look at you. All grown up, and dead." He paused, his face darkening momentarily, and then he smiled again. "I like your hair. Very fetching."  
  
She ran a quick hand through her hair and shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's the style this season." She squared back her shoulders, walking toward him. "But I guess you realize that I'm not here to discuss the newest fashion trends."  
  
"I'd guessed as much, yes."  
  
Faith met his gaze evenly. "I want to be honest with you, boss, 'cuz you're the first person I ever...you know." She took in a deep breath. "Things changed after you left. I sort of wreaked havoc for a little while before I– "  
  
"Did you find the present I left you?" the Mayor interrupted excitedly. "The switcharoo whatchamacallit? How did that work out?"  
  
Faith's face brightened. "Oh, yeah, that was so awesome. No one even caught on for the longest time that it was me and not Buffy, and I totally..." She sobered, remembering herself. "Well, that's not me anymore. I reformed. I died fighting for the White Hats."  
  
The Mayor stared at her for a moment, then gave a short laugh. "And yet they sent you here anyway. See how they never forgive– "  
  
"I got into Heaven," Faith corrected him. "I'm here on a mission, actually."  
  
The Mayor blinked at her. "You got into Heaven?"  
  
She might as well have said "I got into Harvard" or "I got into the space program" for the naked pride on his face. "That's great, Faith," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I'm proud of you."  
  
Faith furrowed her brow in confusion. "You're proud of me? But I thought you'd be all upset that I didn't stay evil."  
  
"Well," the Mayor conceded, "that's what I wanted for you at first. I mean, hey, I'm evil, and it's turned out great for me." He motioned proudly around his office, then turned his focus back to her. "But what I really wanted was for you to be happy. Even if that means shunning evil." He reached forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "We want what's best for the people we love."  
  
They stood like that for a moment, both overcome with emotion. After a moment, Faith reached up and took his hand. "That's not the only reason I'm here, boss. I came for one of your souls. Lindsey."   
  
"Take him," was the Mayor's automatic response.  
  
Faith looked at him in surprise. "But...aren't you supposed to put me through a bunch of trials, or something?"  
  
The Mayor shrugged. "Yeah, well, call me a Nepotist." He reached out and gripped her hand, searching her face carefully. "I want you to be happy, Faith. You are happy, aren't you?"  
  
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand in return. "Five by five."

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The diner was a flurry of activity the next day. Cordelia watched, smiling, as all of the patrons went about their various activities, blissfully oblivious to anything else.   
  
Anya and Gunn were in the corner booth, smiling at each other none-too-subtley as Gunn introduced her to his sister. Cordelia couldn't be quite certain, but she thought she had overheard Anya say something to the effect of, "You must be proud to have such a virile brother..."  
  
Giles, who had appointed himself one of the new managers of the diner, was helping Jenny to enter the finances into the computer. He was trying his best to look exasperated with "the blasted machine", but anyone could tell by looking at him how very happy he was.   
  
Faith and Lindsey were at their own table, speaking together in hushed voices. Faith had taken it upon herself to reintroduce Lindsey to "White Hat Society", as she called it, and Lindsey seemed to have few complaints. They were keeping a careful distance between them, but Cordelia had seen enough furtive glances between the two that she gave it a couple of days at the most.  
  
And then there was Fred and Wesley. They were squeezed into the same side of the booth with each other, smiling and holding hands in a way that would have been borderline puke-worthy if they weren't so darn cute. Smiling, she crossed over to them.  
  
"Hey," she said, grinning at them, "you two look awfully cozy."  
  
Wesley looked rather embarrassed, but Fred merely grinned and snuggled in closer. "Yeah, we do, don't we..." Just to egg Wesley on, she added, "...lover?"  
  
Smiling through his blush, Wesley motioned to the seat across from them. "Care to join us, Cordelia?"  
  
"Don't mind if I do."   
  
Fred glanced over at Lindsey and Faith, smiling. "I still can't believe you guys pulled it off so easily. Have I thanked you for that yet?"  
  
"Only a gazillion times," Cordelia said, with a half-hearted roll of her eyes.  
  
Wesley started to smile at this, then frowned as a sudden thought struck him. "Wait, how _did_ you pull it off? I don't think you've told us yet what you used as a gift to the powers."  
  
Cordelia shrugged. "It was easy. Joyce baked some cookies."   
  
Wesley and Fred merely blinked at her for a few long moments. "Cookies?" Wesley repeated finally.  
  
Fred scrunched up her nose. "And that worked?"   
  
"Yeah, well, they're good cookies." Cordelia assured him. "Plus, I think Ector had the hots for Faith."  
  
"Ah."  
  
Doyle appeared and slid into the seat next to Cordelia. "Who has the hots for who? Besides me for Cordy, I mean..." He kissed her to prove his point.  
  
"Ector for Faith," Fred informed him, "though I think he'll have a run for his money with Lindsey around."  
  
Wesley observed his former slayer. "Yes, I don't think it'll take long for those two to get the romantic juices flowing."  
  
"Romantic juices?" Fred teased. "Who talks like that?"  
  
"Sounds dirty to me," Cordelia agreed.  
  
"I don't know," Doyle spoke up. "I think Gunn and our girl Anya will be the next couple to be gracing the afterlife scene..."  
  
Cordelia snorted. "As if they aren't already a couple. Anya moves in fast, you know. I could tell you a few things..."  
  
And they went on this way, laughing and bantering, for quite some time.  
  
The End.

a/n: You guys are awesome. Thanks for making me finish this. Keep reviewing! Oh, and if anyone has any really good Wes/Fred or Buffy/Spike fics to recommend, send 'em my way.


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